


Himitsu

by peppymint



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Piece
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5526338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppymint/pseuds/peppymint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five things no one ever found out about Marco the Phoenix aka Harry Potter and one they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Himitsu

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one

The first: Secret

It was no secret Marco the Phoenix, Commander of the First Division, had a soft spot for children who had fallen on hard times. Whenever he wandered into town he always made a point of carrying dried fruits in his pockets, passing them out to those in need. Sweet treats for those who rarely, if ever, received any.

The pirate wished he could do more. After a near lifetime on the grand line he had more than enough coin. Sad as it was though, he knew handing out money would do no good. Odds were it would end up in somebody else's pocket if he tried. So, he did what he could.

No one though, not the marines, not even his own nakama knew of the child who had slept in a cupboard so very long ago. He had buried memories of the uncle who called him boy, the aunt who screamed freak, and in its own way his time as the boy-who-live had been just as bad if not worse.

The people of this world had never known the young man who was so desperate to live his own life that he had stepped through a portal with no idea what was waiting for him on the other side. Marco had won his freedom through blood and sweat and tears. It was a hard life at times, but one he wouldn't trade for anything.

And may the powers have mercy on anyone who tried to take it from him, because he wouldn't.

The second: Segreto

Marco knew he was the envy of many pirates, and quite a few marines as well. Commander of the First Division of the Whitebeard Pirates, holder of the Tori Tori no Mi, Model: Cryophoenix, one of the rare mythical zoan fruits. A man whose name was known throughout the whole world.

The pirate would never admit that when he ate the thing he had been well on his way to starving to death. His pride would never recover from the blow. Upon arriving in this world, the first local Marco had found himself in hadn't been very hospitable to say the least. It put the desert in Desert Island.

In truth, the young man had found the oddly colored blue fruit several days before consuming it, setting it aside for when he got truly desperate. Rightly suspecting there was something not quite normal about the strange fruit. In that, Marco had been right. Fortunately however his first hypothesis, that it was poisonous, hadn't been. The Devil Fruit had undoubtedly saved his life. Keeping the then teenager in the peak of health while he learned the limits of his new power.

Marco's first flight made under his own power had been awkward to say the least. Fortunately, perseverance was one trait the pirate possessed in both his lives. And the far friendlier looking island right on the edge of the horizon was a great motivator. The Devil's Fruit had even fixed his eyesight, though the marks of his glasses still existed in his phoenix form. As Marco aged, the sun darkening his skin and bleaching his hair a light orange, those marks became the only sign Harry Potter had once existed.

And truth be told, the pirate was glad of it.

The third: Clandestinus

Marco had been with the Whitebeard Pirates a long time. Long enough that he had known Gol D. Roger personally; long enough that he remembered when his captain still had hair. Whitebeard had opened his heart to him, asking nothing in return. He had given the lost teenager a home. One that made Harry's early years at Hogwarts pale in comparison. The phoenix had made a vow, if only to himself, that he would do everything in his power to protect his family, as they had protected him.

Which made it all the more painful when the pirate had realized he wasn't aging. Despite that fact Marco was on the better side of forty, he looked thirty, at most. Phoenix's were creatures of healing, of life and rebirth, and like all zoans, the pirate wasn't truly human. Not anymore. His nature had been innately changed the moment the cursed fruit touched his lips. Not so with his nakama.

Marco was, like all phoenixes, immortal. The pirate was not quite sure what had become of the previous holder of the Tori Tori no mi. Assuming there had been one, the island where he had found the thing being an out of the way desolate place, and no one knew where Devil's Fruits came from in the first place. It was possible it had always been there.

What Marco did know was that not even the sea could kill him, not permanently at any rate. He had discovered that not two days after eating the fruit. Harry, because he was still Harry then, had decided to go for a swim. Just because he had been stuck on a Desert Island was no reason not to maintain proper hygiene, and his smell had started to become offensive. No one had been around to warn him he would now sink like a stone.

The then teen had woken on the beach, half in and half out of the water, the position of the sun telling him he had lost at least half a day. It was possible it could have been longer. Either way, the fact remained that he should have died that day. But then, what else was new?

Marco would never tell. It was his burden to bear.

The fourth: Hemmelig

As the Whitebeard Pirates had risen to prominence, their Captain becoming one of the four Yonko who ruled the New World, it had been easy for Marco to slip into the role of everybody's big brother. He figured it was the remnants of what Hermione had once called his 'saving people thing.' Thankfully though, Marco had left the whole self-sacrificing martyr bit in the mud where it belonged. He deserved to be happy too, and he knew his nakama would agree.

Marco worked as hard as the lowliest deck hand on the Moby Dick, harder even. He kept up with all the paperwork. He balanced the budget, ordered supplies; did his best to keep his many brothers out of trouble and more or less in one piece. The zoan even spent a good portion of his time coming up with ever more creative ways of sneaking Pops medicine into his food, for which the nurses thanked him. Yep, that was him, the responsible, reliable Commander of the First Division.

All of which meant that no one, except maybe the captain, would ever suspect it had been he who had turned Thatch's beloved Pompadour bright green. Marco was, after all, the son of a Marauder, and it served his friend right. He was, in no shape or form, a giant blue chicken, and the other would do well to remember that.

The fifth: Rasiah

If anyone from the phoenix's early life had every met Marco it is doubtful they would have recognized him, and it would have had nothing to do with his looks. In his youth, Harry had possessed a temper that went off like a firecracker, and raged hotter than his brother's flames.

Most believed Whitebeard's first Commander didn't have a temper. They were wrong. Age and experience had merely tempered the flames; Marco's habitual lidded look hiding the rage in his eyes at one brother's murder and another's betrayal. It was a look that could freeze a man where he stood, as cold as the icy plains of Jotenheim.

In truth, the elder had absolutely no problem with Ace killing their treacherous ex-crewmate. He just didn't want him to go alone. Marco would have liked nothing more than to go with him. But he couldn't. He had a responsibility to their other brothers.

However, that did not mean he was in any way letting this go. With luck Ace would get this out of his system and then return to them. To his family. Either way though Marco swore to himself, Blackbeard would die. Even if it took him all eternity.

And one: Aperio

Marco had left magic behind him long ago. It was a part of the past, one best left forgotten along with his birth name. Once upon a time, the wonder of magic had blinded him, along with the escape he had thought it offered. But the pirate wasn't eleven years old any longer. The power that was his by birth had never given him anything but trouble, so why bother.

The young man once known as Harry had been determined to succeed in this new world on his own merits. No short cuts, no freakishness, as Vernon and Petunia would have said. He no longer gave them the title of Aunt and Uncle. They had never been family. But, forsaken or not, Marco was still a wizard. Magic would always be a part of him.

All of which had brought him to this moment. The pirate forced himself to his knees, the screams of his brothers echoing around him. With the coppery taste of blood in his mouth along with the holes through his chest ; the phoenix could do nothing, bound by the seastone cuff clamped tightly to his wrist.

The wizard however could. Accidental magic, he had heard it called in his youth. Wish magic, Marco thought it should have been called. Wand or no wand, you just had to want it badly enough, and he had never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He looked at his brothers, fighting and dying. Ace, racing for the freedom of the sea. Their Father, injured, cut off from them. That scum Teach, who had crawled out of the shadows like the worm he was. The marines, dispensers of so-called justice, and the power built. The cuff crumbling like weak sandstone as Marco's eyes gained a brilliant and deadly verdant glow. Translucent shields appearing where none had been before.

His family lived.


End file.
